Silent Earthquakes Series (inspired by Tori Amos): Jennifer Patino

Bio: Jennifer Patino is a poet who lives for books and film. She has had work featured in Door is A Jar, Half Mystic Journal, A Cornered Gurl, The Chamber Magazine, Fevers of the Mind, Free Verse Revolution Lit, and elsewhere. She lives in
Traverse City, Michigan with her husband. She is also co-creator of http://www.thejamfiles.com.
Visit her blog at http://www.thistlethoughts.com.

Spring Haze
counting on it all
coming back around
like strewn seeds

the dandelion fields
hold splendor
& the May sky speaks

she reaches for the last
bit of marrow in the twilight,
by dawn she'll be

a withered sparrow,
face kissed by moth wings,
swimming in dew drops

on the back lawn,
still inhaling
the magic of the night

before the sensation
of apathy took hold,
after the numbness returned

rinse & repeat, like seasons,
like recycled trauma,
waiting for the last

exhalation before
facing a sun beam
head on, squinting

to see oblivion
in the bottom of the bottle,
in the clear light of everything

Scarlet Keeps Bees
& Sleeps With Monarchs

The icicles were weapons. Jagged
instances imprisoning moments,
dangling reminders of
violating times.

The girl in front of me
has a raspberry swirl

for a mouth
& she invites me
into melodic mutilation
via shared earbuds.

I needed this at sixteen,
ripe from the shock of loss,
from the terror of
a transforming body,
from the sparked memories
of hotel interludes
haunting my sleep struggles.

I chased Mother’s headlights
down a glistening dead end street
& she never even glanced back.
Under the watchful eye
of a poolside muse
I bloomed & withered
too soon.

Mermaid jeans under
the pink sky, amber waves
shining, I am jealous
of their tresses &
their sundresses. Boys flaunt
their golden guns in everyone’s
direction but mine until one
clings to my back
& never leaves.

I didn’t invite this vampire in,
but he drains me to this day.
I am always rejuvenated by Pele.
A touch can be fire. A kiss
can feel like ice. I melted away
into a thousand oceans. I woke
up as a trembling lizard &
I’m still crawling my way back
from the volcano’s edge.

                                    the whitecoats never left the room

They hide in the corners to drag
me away the next time I feel
too much when I hear
a piano played. I don’t know
whose girl I am anymore
but they’ll let me know
once I’m primed.

Nothing but meat
mistaken for a blood rose.
A light princess weighed down
by neglect. A shaded siren
spoon-feeds me cornflakes
while I create my own
rabbit holes to burrow into.
I carry all the keys around
my neck but I have always
had trouble locating
the locks.

The choir girl saves me.
She sings to my veins.
Her screams silence
Father Lucifer & force me
to fill a dancing girl’s
ragged ballet flats. She slips
an escapeway to the clouds
on my tongue & I succumb
to her beautiful air.

These little earthquakes
reinforce my fractured stability.
I must crumble before
I come to.
Yes, Anastasia, I will be
brave. I will embark
on my journey
through the orbit
of truth.

From Venus to Little Amsterdam
& always back to you.